


Flowers and Picnics

by armouredescort



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Flower Crowns, Fluff, Gen, Picnics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 16:27:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6247255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armouredescort/pseuds/armouredescort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Homestead Children decide to have a picnic and Connor is their guest of honour.</p><p>Happy Birthday to <a href="buddahthebob.tumblr.com">Lo!</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers and Picnics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Capicada](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capicada/gifts).



He was working on the stable roof to patch a hole when he heard a small voice coming from the front of the homestead.

“Connor? Connor are you home?"

Looking up, Connor glimpsed Maria at his front door, a basket of flowers over her arm. She knocked on his door and called out again, her voice with a quaver of uncertainty.

"Over here,” he replied.

She perked up immediately, and bound over to the stable.

“Are you busy?” asked Maria.

Connor glanced at the hole he was patching. It was nearly done – five more minutes and he’d have it sealed. Dark clouds over the bay suggested a storm later that evening, possibly sooner if the wind picked up.

“I will be down in a moment. I am fixing a hole,” he said.

“I can wait,” said Maria.

Her feet said otherwise, twitching on the ground, her hands fiddling with her basket. There was a sense of excitement, more so than usual, a bubbling childish energy that suggested she was hiding a surprise of some sort.

“Is it an emergency?”

“No, but–” Maria broke off, folding her lips into a thin line and pressing her free hand against her mouth. “I’m not allowed to say. It’s important.”

Connor smiled, and took up his hammer to nail down the last few boards. When he descended, Maria was dancing on the spot to keep herself contained.

“What has you jumping like a grasshopper?”

Maria shook her head and said, “You need to put this on.”

She stopped jiggling and gently lifted the flowers from her basket, raising them up to Connor. They were tightly woven into a wicker circle, a pretty arrangement of blue, white, and yellow.

“On your head,” she explained. “It’s a crown.”

Connor crouched so Maria could place the crown, staying still as she tidied it to her liking.

“Have you eaten lunch yet?” she asked.

“No,” Connor said.

Maria jumped once, her smile wide enough to show her teeth.

“Come with me,” Maria ordered.

She held out her hand, and Connor took it, allowing her to weave him through the homestead to the forest that edged it. Along the way, Connor spotted children spying on them from the bushes and running ahead. He didn’t have the faintest clue what was happening, except that there was a surprise at the end. All things considered, it was probably a good surprise.

They entered a little cave and as they turned a corner, there was light streaming in from a hole above and the homestead children gathered around a picnic. The children looked up and cheered, donning their own flower crowns and ushering Maria and Connor in.

“Happy homestead day!” they chanted.

And then Connor was sat at the head of a picnic, the children all talking at once. Connor couldn’t make out what any of them were saying, they were too excited. Connor’s hand rose up to ask for silence and they hushed at once.

“What is homestead day?” he asked.

“It’s been two years since we moved in,” said Maria.

Of course. They had celebrated last year. The flag from that event still flew proudly from the homestead flagpole.

“The adults are having a party later,” said another child.

“But we can’t go to that one and we wanted to have a party too,” a third chimed in.

“So we made a picnic!”

“We made biscuits and those sandwich thingys.”

“Is that what they’re called now?”

“And apple juice! We picked and squeezed the apples ourselves.”

“So we’re celebrating coming here and meeting you and we wanted to thank you for being kind to us.”

“Because what if you thought we didn’t like you because we can’t go to the adult party?”

In amongst the pandemonium of his life, Connor had quite forgotten that the homesteaders were intent on homestead day. He didn’t mind, though. It was a day to reflect on the community he had gathered. To see the children so riled about it was also pleasant, knowing that they cared about showing their appreciation.

“And I thank you for being kind to me,” said Connor. “You are my good friends.”

He was poured a jar of juice and the children toasted him, pretending to be adults – some of the girls braiding their hair across their face to imitate beards, much to the delight of the younger children – and passing out their snacks. It wasn’t until the light faded prematurely and rain started to sprinkle through the hole in the cave that the children packed up and Connor herded them back to the homestead. Most of them made it back before the rain became heavy, but Connor had to run home and change for the tavern party, clothes soaked through.


End file.
